Crimson Rain
by thatsformetoknow
Summary: He wills his eyes to close as he hears the other mans breath hitch as he slides the blade into him, slicing his skin and crimson seeps out. He twists it slightly with a pained expression and they slide to the floor, he cradles him in his arms and rain drops turn into droplets of blood staining his skin. He holds him in his arms as dark eyes threaten to close and kisses him gently.


Cold drops of rain soak through shirts and dampen skin. The dark haired man shivers and the fairer one windes an arm around his waist.

He says it's for heat; why is he out here all by himself in the rain alone anyway?

But the older stiffens and they share a glance.

They know. They both know.

No words are exchanged but thousands of unsaid things are ringing in the others ears and the rain is drowning out their thoughts until it's only them, them and the droplets that fall from the sky.

Black eyes bore into warm honey and neither wants to be the first one to break.

He's lost. He's already lost at this game they gamble their lives with.

He looks so lost in the glow of the sunset and the storm, so beautiful but now isn't the time to be having second thoughts so he steps forward, hand ghosting over sodden skin as he brushes a hand over his cheek and their gazes never faulter.

It's time. They can both feel it.

The bells are especially loud today, after all.

The younger wills his eyes to close as he hears the other mans breath hitch as he slides the blade into him, slicing his skin and crimson seeps out.

He knew.

He twists it slightly with a pained expression and they slide to the floor, he cradles him in his arms and rain drops turn into droplets of blood staining his skin.

He holds him in his arms as dark eyes threaten to close and kisses him gently, savouring the taste, knowing that this will be the last time.

Kisses are peppered into black mussed hair and words are whispered.

He whispers words of love; of how much he loves this man, how incredibly wonderful and beautiful he is and he whispers how the world will never be the same, how he is completely irreplaceable and how it will all be over soon.

He almost believes him.

He never utters an apology. Not one spills from his lips.

He can see the life fading from his eyes with every shallow breath and had he ever thought those eyes seemed inexpressive or soulless, he can see now just how wrong he had been; he can see his very soul lingering, trying to hold on, see the forgiveness he almost wishes wasn't present.

Almost.

But then he's holding a limp body and his eyes have fallen closed and he's crying. He's sobbing and the sounds of rain and thunder drown out his cries but they're there. This inexplicable pain he's feeling tells him so.

Salty tears splash onto porcelain skin, still every so slightly warm with the reminiscence of life and it was all he could do to hold himself together for the detective in his final moments but he's let go now.

He's screaming into the dark abyss around him for the sun is no longer present in the blackened sky and he cannot know how long he has been here for, cradling the corpse of the man he loved. Man he hated.

In the blur of his tears he cannot fathom _why_ he's done this. Why did this need to happen? This beautiful man, gone.

There's nothing to be done, he's gone. And he stays there as lightening flashes across the sky and thunder deafens him but he can no longer find himself caring that he may catch pneumonia and die.

He's clutching onto his body and rocking back and forth as he chokes on his sobs, crying out in anguish.

He's gone.

He's really gone.

There's laughter ringing in his ears and it takes him longer than it should have to realise that it's not his own and he turns, vision still blurred and eyes aching.

He can see his God of Death watching him amusedly and a scowl almost crosses him before he finds the corners of his mouth upturning into a smile.

He's won.

He looks at the detective and let's him go as if he has been scalded at the touch of his cold skin and he scrambles away suddenly.

His gaze drifts from his face to where the blade is still in his side and he hesitates before sliding it out with ease, crimson once again staining his skin and he feels the prickles of tears in his eyes. He cannot tell if he's managed to blink them away and if it is simply rain on his face, the taste of salt as his tongue darts out to catch one as it rolls down his cheek tells him otherwise.

He swallows thickly and stands, his aching limbs stretching for the first time in hours and he knows. He turns away from the other man, eyes met with a large grin and he knows; he knows why this had to be done.

It's okay.

 _He's won, after all._

* * *

 **a/n this is a rewrite of my fic Thunder.**

 **Whilst I actually love Thunder I wanted to write a more descriptive, slightly longer version and this is that.**

 **I don't like the way L died or the reasons L died, I feel it should have been more personal and Light should have killed him. Light won against L and that should have been more significant than tricking Rem into killing him.**

 **Obviously something like this wouldn't work for the plot and the shipping views too.**

 **Feedback is greatly appreciated.**


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